


Wonders of the World

by CryptCreeperX



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Horror, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Suspense, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5120732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CryptCreeperX/pseuds/CryptCreeperX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, a man driven by love nearly ended the world in hate. 200 years have passed since Meteorfall. A film crew documents a derelict mountain village shrouded in snow. Isolated from the world, it’s rumored the Lifestream runs black there and spirits of the dead stalk its grounds. Their guide is Wolf, a man with odd blue eyes. He likes to smile. He also says some memories never die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. UNKNOWN VIDEO LOG | Nibelheim Village

**Author's Note:**

> _HAPPY HALLOWEEN, ghouls and boils! To celebrate this sacred day, I have a treat for you all: a tale of terror. OAO It'll be only 10 chapters, possibly 11 - I'm still working on it but the basic skeleton is done. Prepare yourselves! On a personal side note, I've always wanted to write a FF7 story from an outsider's perspective. I know some ghouls will shriek in horror at the main being an OC. Don't worry, this isn't a OC x CC story. While there is sexual tension in the air, if you're brave enough to stick around you'll understand why I went in this direction. So please, sit back. Relax. And enjoy this tale. OAO_

**UNKNOWN VIDEO LOG | Nibelheim Village**

Everyone likes a good scary story. That's what I thought when I decided on Nibelheim Village for our next investigation. Our _Wonders of the World_ online channel currently garners a good five thousand brave subscribers. It's composed of geeks, adventurers, skeptics, conspiracy theorists, and fond appreciators of the Old World. They are a dedicated bunch; a lively bunch. Sadly, the numbers really aren't that impressive, especially with the hard work we put in on a weekly basis. We scrape by. In order to compete with the bigger online channels and gain sponsors, we need more _oomph_. We need to document places no man or woman dared to go. My film crew agreed when I said all these things two months ago. They were on board with my next proposed destination.

Nibelheim, also known as the Shrouded Village, is an abandoned rural town near the mountains with a notorious past. It belongs to the Old World. No unauthorized person has set foot in this place for over two hundred years, not since Meteorfall . Housed in a secluded location, the village is cut off from the world by the World Regenesis Organization. Official reports declare it a biohazard due to a damaged mako reactor. It supposedly exploded and killed the villagers, burning them to a crisp. That reactor sits on top of Mt. Nibel a few miles from the town, withering away from both age and weather conditions.

As I stand below a tall rusted water tower, surrounded by abandoned wooden-made homes with chipped boards and charred rooftops, a dreadful stillness washes over this land. Dark gray clouds above stay constant. Snow falls. No sun. In this village, the snow comes no matter the time of the year while the air reeks of mako and ash. Burnt toast, that's what it smells like most of the time. But while something constantly burns there is no visible smoke or fire. Sometimes I hear the sounds of screaming here and there. I quickly tell myself it's just the shrieking of a bird, only to realize there are no birds. No animals. Nothing. Nibelheim does not belong to the world of the living anymore.

It belongs to _him_.

I lick my dried, cracked lips. The frozen snot in my nose makes it irritable to breathe the cold air. I focus on the screen of my PHS, hoping for a signal. Still nothing. Damn. A pang of regret hits me. Because we didn't want the competition to catch whiff of our story or get in trouble with the authorities, we told no one of where we went. Not to our friends. Not to our significant others. Not to our families. No one. On our last video update, we mentioned something _very_ _big_ in store and to stay tuned for it. This new project was going to be a major surprise to everyone. We said our goodbyes and that was that. In hindsight, this lack of disclosure was a stupid mistake.

Only now do I admit how difficult the journey to Nibelheim Village really was, how everything fought to stop us from coming here including nature itself. This town never wanted to be found or reached. While the first drops of iced crystals barely fell over Edge City the long rural paths that led to our destination were already covered in inches of snow by the time we arrived.

The wilderness is a cold and brutal place. No one can survive out here, especially at night. The temperatures drop too low. Frostbites and hypothermia become familiar names in this frozen section of the world. Meanwhile, giant chunks of ice regularly break off from steep mountains high above with deadly effects. WRO set up their blockades because of them.

During winter, WRO regularly blows off their massive horns to warn anyone within range of avalanches. Every year at least sixty people die from them. Some are crushed by the falling chunks of ice, others buried alive. Those who manage to escape death find themselves at the mercy of hungry Nibel wolves that prey on the weak and injured. Despite this level of danger, though, my group foolishly went around WRO's blockades many days ago in order to reach Nibelheim Village. For guts. For glory. And for the promise of new online subscribers.

Pathetic.

We can't leave now. Someone or _something_ slashed our van's tires not long ago. Many times we've tried going by foot. A forest composed of dead trees surrounds the village though. It stretches on for miles in all directions. Thick and long tree branches stick out like boney limbs; I can see terrifying figures in them. Any time we enter the forest we somehow end up going in circles. The Nibel wolves also drive us back. Those terrifying beasts… The mako in this area has empowered them with extraordinary strength and size. Driven by their bloodlust, they've already taken one of our own.

Despair… I feel it everywhere in this God forsaken place. It's so suffocating I can barely breathe in the air. I want to call for help but I still can't get a damn signal from my PHS. The entire Nibel area is a dead zone. Beside me, a lean-shaped man in a white hoodie with piercing blue eyes looks my way. He must notice my current state-of-mind because he now places a warm reassuring hand on my shoulder.

" _Smile_ ," Wolf tells me.

I can't.

If I could turn back time I would've taken that 'Danger Keep Out' sign a little more seriously. I would've listened to Wolf when he told me the past belonged to the past. I would've told Gizmo to turn the van around when WRO officers first sounded off their avalanche horns before the path home was blocked off by snow. I would've told Frank to go fuck himself when he insisted reality-based death was a _good_ thing for the channel and would increase our ratings. And I would've done my homework by investigating a man who was supposed to be dead over two hundred years ago. But I am a stubborn guy. So dead-set in making _Wonders of the World_ a major online presence I ignored everything, including all the signs that warned us not to come.


	2. DAY 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Trick or treat? Well, since it's Halloween, I'm gonna post 'Day 1' along with the Prologue. :) Enjoy! And be sure to stay safe as you Trick-or-Treat tonight!_

**DAY 1**

**VIDEO LOG 1 | Edge City | 09-22-00 | 04:00am**

Day one of our trip to Nibelheim Village is starting off painfully slow. The clock alarm goes off for at least a minute before my hand finally slams on the button to kill it. It's warm and soft under my comforter. The back of my throat feels scratchy while a dull headache starts to throb at the side of my head. I don't want to wake up: I want another hour of sleep. By some miracle, though, I manage to drag my ass out of bed anyway. It's a big day so I record myself with my PHS like I usually do.

"Welcome, fellow explorers, to another exciting episode of _Wonders of the World_ ," I mumble to the camera and rub the crust off my eyes. "I am your host, Mercury, the messenger who brings you the good news."

As I stumble down a small hallway, I say a few snarky comments about how excited I am to my faceless would-be audience. This, despite the fact I am in my boxers, can't see well without my glasses, and feel like shit. On the camera's screen, my dark wavy hair is a mess, full of fuzz and annoying static. Even at neck length it's a nightmare to manage. Making my way to the bathroom, I wash my face and take a long piss, mentally reminding myself to edit out this part of the video.

I've seen better days. Hazel eyes are teary and red-shot from a lack of proper sleep while cherry lips appear cracked. It's clear I haven't shaven for at least two weeks, notable by the small stubs that run along my jawline. In the mirror, I spot a fresh pimple on a cheek. Great. I'll need to bring along my pouch of wonders to cover that up; can't have the star of _Wonders of the World_ looking zit-faced on camera, can we? A low growl escapes my lips as I suck in my stomach in some pathetic attempt to spot an impressive six-pack there. It's all skin and bones. I don't have time to care about this though. Quickly, I gel up my thick hair to its usual whimsy style. Then I slip on a pair of jeans, lace up my boots, and slide into a brown sweater. A pair of thick-framed glasses decorates my face.

"I'm ready to roll, fellow explorers," I tell the camera. "Adventure time begins. Follow Mercury into the great swirly unknown! Or, at least, follow him to the parking lot."

I leave the apartment complex shortly after. The block is quiet due to the early morning hour, hardly a soul is awake. I have a duster coat on while I stand outside by my van and fetch the keys. The _Wonders of the World_ logo is pasted on the vehicle's side. A few flakes of snow drop from the black sky above.

Winter comes early this year, despite it being late September. The old people claim Meteorfall fucked up the seasons. It's caused the Planet to tilt on its axis differently. Or maybe something else prompts the erratic seasonal changes. I don't know or care. For a moment, I look up and dwell on the fact it will be a while until I see this sky from my home. I can get sentimental sometimes. Before I wallow in this nonsense any longer, though, I shift my mind into next gear. I unlock the van and get inside.

It's a sizable vehicle with enough room for our six-manned party. At the back, there is a large monitor with video-related equipment. My personal belongings clutter a corner. Thankfully, I was smart enough to pack for the trip last night.

A lot of planning went into this outing. I paid a neighbor to take care of my dog and I stocked up on supplies. There's canned food and beverages to last my group for a few weeks. From an outlet, I bought chemical protection coveralls. They're nothing too fancy but enough to keep us safe from potential mako radiation. Also as a precaution, a pistol sits in my glove department. We might run into wolves or bears. It's the fucking wilderness so who knows what is out there. Lastly, I made sure to bring along a big pack of toilet paper – I'll be damned if I have to wipe my ass with leaves. This will be a long trip so hopefully we got enough for it.

As I crank up the heater and wait for the air to get warm, I pull out my PHS and make the rounds. Most of my crew is still asleep. Those who bother to answer my call sound like zombies; all moans and slurred words. Idiots. The coffee I drank is already wearing off and so is my patience. We're supposed to be outside of Edge City by six. Timing is _everything_. According to the weather reports last night, the snow in the Nibel area is getting bad. Some part of me wonders if we'll be stuck out there after we're done filming. I quickly reassure myself we'll be out of Nibelheim before the path back home is blocked by snow. Making my calls, about the only person in the group who sounds coherent is our guide.

" _I'm ready for pick-up_ ," a male's voice confirms from the other line. " _Let's mosey_."

Last month, I placed a temporary job listing online and offered five-hundred Gil to anyone familiar with the Nibel area. I did this under the false pretense that it was for an environmental study. Not many responded to the ad. That was no surprise. After Meteorfall, a majority of the human population migrated to the developing cities to increase their survival chances. Over time, they grew accustomed to the urban setting and stayed there. People don't care for the wilderness, including myself. It's too dangerous. Monsters from post-Meteorfall times still run rampant. I was worried no one would answer my job listing. But then a man under the username _Wolf86_ contacted me through email. He claimed to know the area really well and agreed to be our guide.

Over the phone now, Wolf tells me his pick-up address and promptly hangs up before I can thank him. I feel slightly put off by our brief and abrupt conversation. This will be our first face-to-face meeting. Already, I can tell Wolf is one of those oddball quiet types. Still. Wolf's soft and husky voice did sound appealing over the phone. My face feels warm. I input his directions into my GPS and turn on my stereo at full blast. Then I pull out of the parking lot.

* * *

**VIDEO LOG 2 | Edge City – Eastern Sector | 09-22-00 | 04:25am**

With my PHS attached to the dashboard, I record myself while driving down a long stretch of road. I know most of this won't make it to the final cut. However, I need pre-Nibelheim footage for our documentary. I'd rather have a lot to work with than not enough. Even if it's just me staring at the camera, making a damn fool of myself, at least it's a potential idea we can use. Comic relief, yeah?

"So, I'm now on my way to pick up our guide," I report, "Wolf86. He sounds hot over the phone. I hope he's the real deal though. Wolf told me he grew up from those rural parts and knows the land well. I'm counting on that. Nibel is one of the few places untouched by human civilization since Meteorfall."

Music blasts in the background, some lively tune about love, and I feel more alive thanks to my second cup of coffee. I go over the speed limit but don't care. Hardly anyone is out in the streets at this early hour. I'm grateful for this. Traffic in Edge City sucks. It being the first major metropolis since the Restoration, the entire world practically lives here. No one can get anywhere within twenty minutes. Turning on a street, the snow falls more heavily and I put on my wipers. I resume talking to the camera.

"I honestly have no idea how Wolf is gonna take the news. He still doesn't know where we're actually headed. Being from the Nibel area, though, I would think he is familiar with the path that leads to the village. Let's hope so. The success of this project rests on Wolf's shoulders. I brought along an extra five-hundred Gil as an incentive, just in case he tries to back out."

Wolf's directions take me deeper into Edge City. I make a face when I realize it's at the eastern sector. Many of the city's weirdoes and misfits reside here. I automatically lock my van's doors. Humming to the current song on my stereo, I try to sound upbeat. Random topics pop in my head. I ramble about them to the camera. The deeper I go into the eastern sector, though, the quieter I become. The morning darkness shrouds my surroundings. Only the beams from my van's headlights cut through it.

When I arrive at an underpass, I lower the volume of my stereo and set the van on _park_. Briefly, I look at the camera. "Well. According to my GPS, fellow explorers, I'm at my destination. This looks… pleasant."

Below the underpass I spot a few homeless people. They stand around a fire-lit barrel. There's a closed pawn shop that's been spray-painted with graffiti. It's the same for the Family Gil-Store. A strip joint with neon-lights is at my right side. It's one of the few establishments actually opened. Music thumps and two girls in colorful fur coats stand outside an entrance in the cold weather. They talk with a blond-haired guy. It must be near to closing time for them.

I frown. This isn't a residential area. There are no apartments or homes here. Checking my GPS, I worry I may have inputted the wrong information. Or perhaps Wolf thought it would be a _terrific_ idea to pick him up from the titty place. That could be him standing outside with the two girls. With a sigh, I grab my PHS and temporarily pause the recording to pull up his phone number. I have to get to the bottom of this. As I'm scrolling down my address book, however, I notice movement up ahead.

One of the homeless people under the pass abandons the make-shift camp fire. Currently smoking a cigarette, he heads in my direction. The man is likely coming to beg for Gil. Or to murder me. That's what I think as I hurriedly scan for Wolf's number. I'm not staying here a moment longer than I have to. Wolf better get his ass out here _now_. I've seen enough horror films to know how this ends for the dopey single white guy.

The lone figure straight ahead crosses the street. My van's head-beams reveal a lean-shaped male dressed in a white hoodie with faded jeans and rugged boots. The hood of his jacket is drawn over his head, covering most of his face. I can only make out the lips; a blush shade. They form a small smile. This homeless guy is seriously underdressed for the cold weather. With one hand tucked inside a pocket while the other holds his lit cigarette, he carries a backpack and hardly makes a sound as he walks. I grow tensed.

Quickly, I locate Wolf's number in my PHS' address book. I call it and prepare to reverse out of my spot before the murderer-serial-killer reaches my van. A peculiar thing happens though. As I hear the dial tone ring in my ear, I also hear the chime of a phone's melody sound off nearby. It gets closer and closer until I look up. The homeless guy stands directly in front of my van. His body glows against the light of my van's beams. The left hand raised, I spot a PHS in his palm. It's lit up and plays the ringtone I hear.

 _Wolf…?_ I catch my breath and flip my PHS shut. Sure enough, as soon as I stop calling Wolf's number the music in the man's phone stops. He goes around my van and approaches the door leading into the passenger's side. I unlock it for him and he opens it.

" _Wolf86_?" I immediately ask before he steps inside.

The hooded man exhales a cloud of smoke from his lips and nods.

I'm surprised my guide comes from the streets. Economic times are rough though. The world is still trying to stand on its feet, especially with the inhibitions of mako energy. I slip on a smile. "I'm Spence. You know me by my username, _Mercury_. Please. Get in."

With his boot, Wolf crushes his cigarette. He slips off his backpack and dumps it at the footing space of the passenger seat. Wolf takes a long look inside the van before getting in. He glances up at me. "I gotta warn you: I get motion sickness from time to time. I hope you brought enough cleaning supplies."

Without another word, Wolf enters the van.

It's the second time I hear my guide's voice. Despite his rather mortifying admission, he has a lovely sound. Soft and not too rough. Being in the company of homeless people, I halfway expected Wolf to smell of piss and days old corn-chips funk. He doesn't. His scent actually reminds me of raw earth: fresh and grassy. There is only a faint trace of cigarette smoke left on him. Wolf keeps his hood over his head and stares down the empty road ahead while I lock the doors again. He doesn't bother putting on his seat's safety belt.

We peel out of the shady area and head to the next pick-up address at the other side of town. Setting my PHS back to its original spot, I resume recording. "I hope you don't mind if I record our conversations, Wolf. It's for the documentary. Why not introduce yourself? Say _hello_ to our audience."

Wolf simply stares at the camera. Then he yawns and sits back against his seat. This action reminds me of my dog whenever it's bath time.

"I was so worried you were going to kill me back there," I later confess with a half-hearted laugh. "It can get pretty rowdy in this part of the city. Are you cold, by the way? I got an extra jacket at the back."

Wolf shakes his head.

"Really? It's like twenty degrees this morning. You must be cold."

"I'm warm, actually," the other man finally replies.

Briefly, I glance at Wolf's direction to make sure he really is okay. My guide isn't shaking at all. His body hasn't emitted any cool air since he stepped inside. I realize he's not even wearing gloves or mittens. My curiosity is peaked when I notice a silver ring on the fourth finger of his left hand. It's in the shape of a wolf. A Fenrir.

Keeping my eyes on the road, I try to get a conversation going again. I still have no idea how to tell my guide about our true destination. All I can say is, "Thanks again for coming with us. Not many people are familiar with the sectors beyond WRO's safe zones. I'm surprised you were raised out there."

The man beside me says nothing. Instead, he reaches into his jacket's pocket.

I fidget in my seat while I drive. "Um. Did you get the chance to check out our online channel, by the way? _Wonders of the World_. I sent you a link to it in our last email. It gives you an idea of what we do."

Wolf pulls out a morsel wrapped in plastic paper. It smells of ginger. He noisily works to remove it.

"We mostly investigate and discuss the history of places. I figured documentaries like this are worth making, especially when the world almost went to hell. A lot was lost. It's important we know where we came from." I pause from my rambling. "What do you think? Pretty cool channel, huh?"

"I haven't seen it," Wolf blurts out. He shoves the morsel straight into his mouth and chews on it.

My brows furrow. Feeling slightly offended by Wolf's very blunt reply, I struggle to keep the smile on my face. "I guess you're not a fan of history?"

Wolf's lips loudly smack together. He looks at me. "I'm hoping if I eat this I won't puke in your ride."

I blink. I was right: Wolf is the oddball quiet type. Mentally, I tell myself to cut this part of the video out. I shift the topic elsewhere. "What's your name? Your real name, I mean. You never told me it."

Wolf stares out his window now. Pressing his forehead against the glass, he gazes up at the specks of iced crystals that fall from the sky. "It doesn't matter."

"Okaaaaaay. Um. But are you okay with me calling you _Wolf_ for the documentary?"

"Wolf is fine." Wolf exhales and causes the window's glass to fog. His finger makes a squeaky sound as he draws a lopsided smiling face.

My own smile disappears. I try one last time to spark some energy into this dead conversation. "I, uh, see you're sporting a ring. Are you married? Do you have family here?"

At this, Wolf turns and stares at me. He doesn't say anything for a moment. Then he cocks his head to one side. "That isn't what you really want to know. Is it?"

A bit taken aback, I meet his gaze. "Uh, excuse me?"

"You don't want to know my real name. You don't want to know if I'm married or have a family. That's fine. No need to dilly-dally." He leans slightly toward me from his seat. "What you _really_ want to know is if I'll take you to Nibelheim."

I nearly slam on the brakes when we almost pass a red light. My heart skips a beat.

The roads remain empty. Even with the temptation, I don't run the light. Instead, I keep my eyes locked on Wolf. I'm shocked he already knows about our true mission. Did someone from my crew give him the heads up? Only I have corresponded with him though. My questions are answered when he speaks.

"You're not the only person who's had the bright idea of going there. There've been others. Many."

Wolf finally pulls back the hood of his sweater. The light in his eyes is the first detail I instantly notice. I sit there, mesmerized by their color and brilliance. They remind me of Costa del Sol's ocean-blue waters. Clear. Rich. Saturated. Apparently, Wolf is amused by my enthralled reaction because he emits a hoarse chuckle and runs a hand through his wild furious hair. That funky hair of his takes on a platinum-blond shade. It's a chaotic mess with all sorts of spikes that jet everywhere. The style suits him though. With a gentle face and smooth ivory-colored skin, Wolf looks to be my age, early twenties. Faint freckles appear across the cheeks. They flare with color when he smiles and looks at me.

I admit Wolf is terribly handsome; a rural boy with wind-licked hair and striking blue eyes. I want to ask him out for coffee some time. Then I remember the ring on his fourth finger. It's the symbol of a taken man; a _married_ man. _Greeeat._ His partner is also likely a _missus_ than a _mister_. That isn't the only red flag for me though. Wolf carries himself in a way that doesn't reflect a man in his youth. Something about him feels… _off_.

"Anyone who wanders off to the Nibel area is only there for one thing: to find the abandoned mountain village," Wolf declares later, "You're after the same thing. Right?"

The light turns green but I don't push on the gas pedal. Licking my dried lips, I can only nod back.

"Figures…" Wolf unzips his jacket, apparently feeling hot now. He slips it off and reveals a short-sleeved gray shirt. It has a faded Tonberry image on it with the words, _Sticking It to You_. Super cheesy. Wolf doesn't seem to care. He settles back in his seat and tells me, "It's a bad idea, you know. You'll only find one thing in that place: despair."

Despair. For such a small word it holds a lot of impact. Wolf says it so casually too. Still, I can't let that word get to me. Ever since I heard about Nibelheim I knew this place needed to be documented. Most of its history has been distorted by various rumors. Many claim the village is cursed; the Lifestream corrupted there. A great fire happened, supposedly started when the mako reactor exploded. It killed all the villagers and destroyed their homes. Misfortune has followed ever since.

The second time Nibelheim was restored, Meteorfall happened. It nearly wiped the place from existence. On a third and final attempt, WRO's construction workers were in the process of restoring the site until _another_ fire happened. The details are sketchy on this account. Apparently, a dispatch team was sent in after the construction crew failed to report in for over a month. The dispatch team found their burnt bodies; the homes destroyed again. They left only a week after the gruesome discovery. No official reason why they did was given. WRO sealed off the place and claimed it was a biohazard.

What caused the fires? Do the spirits of the villagers actually haunt this place? This abandoned town has sparked intrigue and rumors throughout many generations. Even when WRO officially declared the site a biohazard due to its damaged mako reactor, people still have questions. We're filled with numerous _what-if_ scenarios. But as for the truth? The truth of what happened in this sleepy town? It evades us.

The streetlight above turns from yellow to red again. The van stays put. To Wolf, I say, "If you think we shouldn't go then why did you agree to be my guide? Why are you here?"

"I wanted to know if you'd change your mind." His answer is short and to the point.

My hand reaches out to the PHS on the dashboard. Stopping the recording, I immediately turn to face Wolf again. "Listen, I just want to get to the truth of this place, man. That's what my crew does. We get to the bottom of things and document it."

"You want the truth? People died. The end."

"That's not enough." My voice sounds rougher now. I take a deep breath to relax again. "I need to know what happened to this village, _how_ those people died. Nibelheim is among the lost places of the Old World. The purpose of our channel is to remember our past."

"Some places are best left forgotten." Wolf idly draws another smiling face next to the first one on his window. He adds a heart between them and softly remarks, "You can't live in the past. The past belongs to the past. You can only go forward and smile."

"It's worth revisiting the past every now and then, though, to become a part of history," I argue.

He looks at me. His bizarre blue eyes never waver. "You actually think that? Even if it's dangerous?"

"It comes with the job."

"You're going then." Wolf must've seen the determination on my face since his words sound more like a declaration than a question. "Nothing will change your mind."

"Listen, if you're not comfortable with this then tell me where to drop you. I won't force you to come. Don't worry about the Gil either. I've already transferred it to your account."

Wolf laughs; a low gentle sound. "There's no point in me ditching. You'll go there regardless. I only needed to know if this was what you wanted. The results make no difference to me. I gave up worrying about things beyond my control a long, long time ago." Wolf slowly smiles. This smile never reaches his eyes though. "These days, I can only smile at misfortune."

"Then this means… you'll come?"

Wolf touches the ring in his hand. The light in his peculiar blue eyes dims as he stares at it. The next words he says sound strange to my ears. "This will be the last time. Five should be enough. Maybe less… And then it will all be over. And then we _both_ can smile. Together."

"Wolf?" Confused, I look at him carefully. "Are you okay?"

Wolf's face is unreadable. He ignores my question. "I'll take you there. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

I nod. The street light turns green again.


	3. Day 2

  
**DAY 2**  


**VIDEO LOG 3 | North Corel Area | 09-23-00 | 05:15pm**

Only the second day of our film project and I already miss the comfy flat surface of a warm bed and late-night binges of online channel browsing. The back of my neck feels stiff from sleeping upright last night. Sitting on hard leathery seats hasn't done my ass any favors either. Chilly air from the outside seeps into the van, meanwhile. To save on gas we sparingly use the heater. The fuzzy blanket meant to keep me warm only reaches halfway down. Now my feet are cold, even with the boots on. Terrific. Despite constantly being on the move for our online channel, I've always hated traveling. There's the nuisance of dealing with unpredictable elements like the weather as well as forgetting something at home.

My arm deodorant… Damn.

Going at forty miles per hour, the landscape featured outside is flat and rocky. North Corel Area. It's been awhile since we chose a film location this far from home. While my team has mostly stuck with the ruins of Midgar, Grasslands, and Junon areas, we did visit Corel City and the Gold Saucer in past episodes of _Wonders of the World_. It'd been a fun experience.

Riding at the back of the van, I observe the late afternoon colors of orange and purple filter across the sky through a window. Winter has reached the North Corel region but it doesn't snow here. Yesterday, we took a Ferry to cross the sea; an expensive fare. Now we're driving through dirt, rock, and cactus. Certain pockets of North Corel are a flurry of activity. Budding towns expand thanks to WRO's efforts. We haven't come across any post-Meteorfall monsters on the desert road because of them. That's a blessing. Unfortunately, our journey hasn't been without its challenges. My oddball guide has puked a total of nine times since the trip began.

Looking up from my laptop, I stare at the young man with intense blue eyes across me. "You all right?"

Sitting cross-legged on his seat, Wolf keeps his head down. His knuckles are white as he grips his PHS. I can hear the beeping sounds of a game; something he distracts himself with. Wolf doesn't bother to meet my gaze. Instead, he kills something on his mini-screen and mumbles: "…I'm dying."

I'm not sure if Wolf's remark is directed at the game or some exaggerated expression related to his poor condition. He says nothing else and pulls out a bottle of pills from his backpack shortly after. A glossy fat green capsule finds its way into his mouth.

Wolf hasn't been feeling well at all. Strung out from various meds to treat his motion sickness, that flawless skin of his has turned to a pale shade of white. Any time he looks up from the PHS his bizarre blue eyes waver back-and-forth at some undefined spot. I gave the man sleeping pills to survive the Ferry ride yesterday. It helped but Wolf is still in bad shape.

Between repeatedly pulling over for my guide's upset stomach and the ongoing construction work throughout North Corel, we're a half day behind on schedule. The plan is to make a stop at Corel City for tonight. I've already booked rooms at a cheap motel there. It's a delay but the city serves as the halfway checkpoint to our final destination anyway. Besides, it'll be nice to sleep on a bed tonight. We'll soon enough be in the Shrouded Village.

Nibelheim.

The pit of my stomach tightens at the thought. Anxiety and anticipation makes it difficult to sit still. At times, I idly bob my legs like a jackrabbit. It's been a personal goal of mine to discover the greatest wonder of the world and be the first to unveil it to everyone. I want to be the voice of the past; to be a messenger who shares a glorious revelation to the people of Gaia. This new project may finally be it.

Looking over my notes displayed on the laptop's screen, I still haven't figured out the opening lines for the upcoming shoot. There're a lot of angles I want to cover, from a potential cover-up by WRO to theories over what caused the fires. Idle chit-chat from my film crew goes on around me in the van but I largely ignore it. A mini-camera is set on top of the rearview mirror, meanwhile, filming everyone.

Gizmo, Sleepy, Frank, Third-Eye, Wolf, and Mercury… None of us go by our actual names during this grand adventure. We're all addressed by our online personas – our alternate selves formed by a digital frontier where _likes_ , _subscribes_ , and _shares_ are all that matter. In the past, I debated on changing my online name. The word _Tseng_ pops up from time to time. I don't know why. Sounds catchy, I guess. It's somehow familiar to my ears. Third-Eye claims it comes from my former life. He believes I must've been a cars salesman in that life because I wore a suit to work all the time.

Sounds legit enough.

At the driver's seat is the team's technician, Gizmo. As usual, her hair is filled with sunflowers and beads. Gizmo smokes her third blunt of the day and complains about the energy we're sucking from _Mother Gaia_ ; this despite the fact she's a slave to technology and requires that same energy to pursue her online activities. The self-proclaimed cyber-hippie has always insisted the Lifestream is a collection of liquefied human remains. To her, our bodies feed the Planet. It sounds sadistic. As Gizmo drives with one hand on the wheel and text messages with the other, we narrowly escape two head-on collisions.

"Oil consumption is no different than mako consumption," Gizmo lectures to no one in particular. Long braided locks of gold hair sway back and forth as she shakes her head. Each time she jerks the wheel left or right, her wooden bracelets loudly _click-clack_ together. "We've reached an age of enlightenment at the aftermath of our own destruction. However, our species has quickly reverted back to the all-consuming primal laws of beasts. _Me, me, me_ … it's all about _me_. That's our attitude these days. Mother Gaia is not pleased. Mother Gaia demands we shred our animal instincts and become one with her. Consider me concerned."

Gizmo talks too damn much.

Beside her on the passenger's seat is Sleepy. Wearing a vintage Gold Saucer shirt over his round body, our fifty-five-year-old cameraman ignores Gizmo's ongoing ramblings. He despises this young generation of self-professed Mother Gaia lovers. The few strands of Sleepy's greasy, orange hair are combed back across his shiny head. Bags have formed under his small beady eyes. He's been nicknamed _Sleepless in Edge City_ by some of us. I honestly didn't expect Sleepy to join us. In the middle of a divorce, our cameraman has been laying low in his apartment for the past two weeks, burying his woes away with cheap beer, ready-made microwavable noodles, and online booty games. He joined us to forget his problems but has stayed asleep for most of the trip. I suspect the land of dreams serves as a better alternative to his current reality.

"Damn rotten hippie brats…" Sleepy mumbles as Gizmo continues on with her Mother Gaia preaching. Displaying his annoyance, he turns his entire body away from the girl and tries to go back to sleep.

The rest of the crew is at the back of the van with me. Frank currently updates our blog on his laptop, chugging down an energy drink in the process.

The word _bear_ comes to mind whenever I see Frank: big, hairy, and intimidating. I'm relieved he's too busy to talk. We've never seen eye-to-eye. While I know about his cheating wife and hospitalized brother, he brings his family woes to work, often taking his anger out on us. If a situation goes sour, he vents. If I call him out on a mistake, he twists my words around. If we require assistance, he walks away and leaves us to figure it out on our own. I've wanted to kick Frank off the team many times. He brings unnecessary tension to the group. But everyone feels sorry for him. They consider him a guy with rotten luck. I've personally come to accept Frank as an operational manager. He routinely checks our online channel's stats and reports what needs to be done in order to bring up our views and subs. That's as far as he goes to being a _team player_.

"Have you checked the weather reports?" Frank demands and suddenly looks up at me from his laptop. Waiting for an answer ten seconds ago, he scratches a fuzzy arm.

The tone in his voice tells me he's in one of his _moods_ again. Evenly, I reply, "Not yet."

"And why not? You're supposed to check the weather situation in the Nibel area every few hours."

"We're staying at Corel City tonight. I figured it didn't matter."

Frank's brows level together. He types louder on his laptop and mutters, " _Fine._ I'll check it myself."

I purse my lips.

Yeah, Frank is in one of his moods again. Of everyone, I receive the blunt of it. It's because I confronted him about his attitude last year. Since then, he's intentionally picked at little things here and there in an effort prove my incompetence. Asshole. Sometimes I fantasize shooting him in the head and dumping his body in a secluded far-off spot where no one can find it. But I would never have the balls to go through with something like that – not in my wildest dreams. Despite owning a gun, I've never used it before. The weapon was a gift. The sight of blood also makes me queasy.

I'm about as tough as a fucking marshmallow.

"Want a cookie, Mercury?" To my right, Third-Eye holds up a sugary treat in his hand. He's a hefty, tall man with rich mocha-colored skin. The team's designated _psychic_ notices my annoyed face. Trying to relieve the tension between Frank and me, he leans forward and smiles.

Third-Eye is the oldest member but certainly acts like the youngest. His gray frizzy afro shifts to one side; a retro style for a seventy-year-old man. Our online audience adores him. Any time Third-Eye appears in an episode, the subs and views shoot up. He's got a warm, magnetic personality. I like having him around. Always dressed in a sharp two-piece suit, he smells of cinnamon all the time. That has a lot to do with his regular job. Third-Eye works at the supermarket's bakery section. He certainly has a sweet tooth. The old man enjoys baking treats as much as eating them.

It's unknown whether Third-Eye can actually see into the future or past as he claims. A skeptic myself, I've always believed his predictions to be circumstantial or a matter of perspective. Still, I've set my doubts aside and invited Third-Eye to this trip. Nibelheim is supposedly a haunted village. It made sense to bring him along. Even if it's all hocus-pocus nonsense, his presence will provide entertainment value.

I accept the cookie offered to me at last; my frustrated thoughts finally dissipate. Third-Eye nods and appears pleased. He soon shifts his attention away and rests his eyes on the final member of our party.

For the most part, Wolf has kept to himself. He's either been drugged out of his mind from the meds or preoccupied with his PHS – definitely the oddball anti-social type. I'm surprised Wolf isn't put off by the chilly air inside the van like the rest of us are. Everyone has a blanket over themselves. This guy though… he sits cross-legged on his seat with bare feet. He doesn't bother to wear his hoodie either. As he plays in his PHS, I occasionally notice a silent blank expression on his face, something that reminds me of Sleepy's own gloomy looks.

It may not be just motion sickness prompting Wolf to keep his distance from everyone. Aside from not knowing any of us, he might have domestic issues back at home too; his mind preoccupied with them. It would explain the wedding ring on his hand and why I found him in the streets yesterday. Maybe his wife kicked him out and they're separated. Divorced, perhaps? Maybe she vowed never to see him again. I'd be lying if I didn't wish this was the case. It'd give me an opening to work with.

Yeah, I can be a selfish bastard sometimes…

"Would you like a treat too?" Third-Eye addresses Wolf next. From a plastic bin, he pulls out a sprinkled cupcake. He waves it in front of him, trying to get the young man to talk and loosen up. "Don't worry, son, it's sugar-free."

Still looking ill, Wolf wipes beads of sweat from his forehead. He continues distracting himself with his PHS. "Sorry. Not interested."

"Your loss then." Third-Eye winks at him and eats the cupcake himself. Licking off the vanilla frosting first, he asks offhandedly, "Excuse me for asking, but have we met before?"

Wolf shrugs his shoulders. The PHS makes _bam-bam_ sounds now.

"I could've sworn I've seen your face at another place, another time…" Third-Eye insists.

"I must have that type of face, I guess."

At this, the dark-skinned man laughs. "Oh, son, I sincerely doubt that; not with those bright blue eyes and wild hair of yours. You _stick out_ pretty well."

Wolf snorts and reactively runs a hand through his erratic-styled hair. I'm intrigued by that fury of hair myself. Initially, I assumed Wolf used countless hair products to defy gravity with spikes like that. But as I see how his hair reacts and gives easily under his touch, I realize it's all natural.

"Maybe my memory ain't what it used to be then." Third-Eye swallows down the rest of his cupcake. After licking his lips, he points at a spot next to Wolf. "By the way, who is the blue-eyed shadow?"

With only his eyes, Wolf looks up. One brow is arched. "Excuse me?"

"The blue-eyed shadow that's next to you."

The PHS beeping stops and Wolf now raises his head. His surprised reaction is shared by others in the van. Franks pauses from his typing while Gizmo goes quiet from behind the wheel. Perplexed myself, I readjust my eye frames and glance back and forth between Third-Eye and the guide.

Blue-eyed shadow? I don't see any shadows aside from the ones we cast below our feet.

"Never mind then." Third-Eye checks the plastic bin again and considers his next treat. He ignores the abrupt silence in the van.

My curiosity is at its peak now. Any time Third-Eye talks like that it usually means he's picking up on something. I set my laptop aside and lean forward with elbows on my knees. "Okay, Third-Eye, I'll take a bite: what do you mean by _blue-eyed shadow_?"

Third-Eye makes a quick dismissive hand gesture and chooses his next victim: a pineapple glazed donut. "Ah, Mercury, never mind what this old man is saying. I'm just talking gibberish."

"Nah, you brought it up. Don't be a tease. What do you mean by _blue-eyed shadow_?"

"I don't want to scare Wolf."

This catches my undivided attention. Now I am _super_ intrigued. And so is Wolf apparently. He sets his PHS game on pause and places it between his crossed-legs. Staring at Third-Eye, his eerie blue eyes softly illuminate. It's the first time I've seen Wolf take an interest in anyone or anything. Third-Eye must've taken notice too because this prompts him to talk.

The old man takes a bite of his donut. As he does, his eyes meet Wolf's. "You know why they call me _Third-Eye_ , son?"

"I'm guessing it's because you're a _psychic_." There's a hint of sarcasm in Wolf's voice.

"Heh, that's what everyone thinks."

"So what are you then? You can see into the future, right?"

"In a way." Third-Eye waits until his mouth isn't full with pineapple syrup to explain, "Since Meteorfall, the Lifestream has _leaked_ into our world. Over two hundred years may have passed but the Planet is still closing its wounds. This affects the land of the living in more ways than one, from ongoing electrical interferences to spiritual crossings."

_Spiritual crossings_ , I think to myself. Third-Eye mentioned this in our last episode of _Wonders of the World_. He claimed the spirits from the Lifestream sometimes cross over to our realm due to the leakage caused by Meteorfall. Around the world certain bodies of water serve as open gateways to the other side. As a result, priestesses of the old Gaia religion have created seals and performed rituals to purify these _contaminated_ waters, attempting to ward off any stray spirits and return them to the Lifestream.

Third-Eye has often spoken of a particular spirit the priestesses fear most. It is the spirit of a demon; a demon who intends to cleanse the world with fire in the next Calamity. Third-Eye has predicted this entity will rise among men and reveal its name to the world prior to the end of days.

It sounds like folklore bullshit to me. I don't believe in spirits, let alone, demons. But for this trip we brought along digital audio recorders, full spectrum camcorders, laser grids, infrared thermometers, and electro-magnetic field meters just in case. If we manage to capture any _spiritual crossings_ during our time in Nibelheim it'll definitely boost our ratings. People love spooky ghost stories. Some online channels have dedicated their entire life investigating the Lifestream phenomenon. We might gain some of their viewership.

"This is why I can see and hear things no one else can," Third-Eye continues. "It's not just spirits that have spilled into this world but the Lifestream's knowledge as well. The river of life provides a network of information, all collected from the subconscious of deceased persons and Planets. This includes everything from the past, present, and the future. I like to refer to this cluster of information as _signals_."

"Signals?" Wolf tilts his head to one side, ready for an explanation.

"In the past, only an ancient race known as the Cetra was able to detect the Lifestream's signals and transmit their own. But after Meteorfall these signals became detectable by a few super sensitive people. I call them Receptors. That's what I am, Wolf: a Receptor. I receive signals from the Lifestream."

"And how exactly does that work?"

"Unfortunately, my ability is limited. Unlike the Cetra, I can only receive; not transmit. I also can't control it when it happens. An image may appear to me at any time and at any place, from the past or the future." Third-Eye finishes the donut. He licks his lips and mentions, "Sometimes when I close my eyes I can see the image. Other times it manifests itself to me. It's the luck of the draw, I guess."

"So what's this have to do with the blue-eyed shadow?" Gizmo suddenly speaks up from behind the wheel. Having paid attention to the conversation so far, she briefly looks back at us. "Is it a vision from Mother Gaia? Does this shadow have a special message to share on her behalf? Consider me impatient for the truth. Ensnarl me with your theories, old man."

A car honks up ahead. It forces the hippie girl to pay attention to the road again.

"The image I see is a very faint manifestation and it's near Wolf," Third-Eye replies while his eyes drift down. He notices crumbs on his well-ironed trousers and brushes them off. "The blue-eyed shadow has been with us all this time. It's appeared on and off again since we left Edge City."

This startling revelation causes the air to go still. Even as I remind myself this is all unproven nonsense, an uneasy tingling sensation washes over my skin.

"Bullshit…" Frank mutters nearby. He shakes his head and resumes updating our online blog.

"Wait, hold on a minute…" I blurt out next, "It's been with us since the beginning? Where, specifically?"

"By Wolf." The old man nods at an empty spot next to the guide. "It's faint. However, the signal is not as faint as when we left Edge City. I think the signal is getting stronger."

Both Wolf and I look around his spot. My guide sits by the food supplies. All that surrounds him are canned foods and bottled water. There's nothing out of place; no blue-eyed shadows. No _signals_. Weird – even when I don't believe in the paranormal I'm admittedly relieved to see nothing there.

"This blue-eyed shadow is attached to you, Wolf," Third-Eye informs. His voice sounds low and even; a telltale sign he's not joking around. "It shares a deep connection. Do you know of any blue-eyed people that formed a special relationship with you in the past?"

Wolf keeps his lips pursed.

"From time to time, I can hear it whisper," the old man claims.

Now the guide's brows go even. He finally speaks. "What's it say?"

"I don't know. The sound is too low. But I suspect the signal will continue getting stronger as time passes on. Hopefully by then I'll decipher its message and figure out what it wants from you."

Sitting quietly in my seat, I'm not sure whether this is good news or bad news. That skeptical inner voice of mines immediately reminds me Third-Eye is an old man with an overactive imagination. And on a sugar high. He's seeing and hearing things that aren't there. I love the guy, but it's hard to take him seriously sometimes, especially when I've yet to gather proof of his _receptor_ abilities. The last time I took his word I was out on a two-hundred Gil bet.

"We're not even in Nibelheim and we're already seeing ghosts…" Sleepy murmurs from his seat. His eyes remain closed. "We should've brought along a damn exorcist…"

Everyone returns to their previous activities at that point. Wolf, himself, picks up his PHS and resumes gaming. His lack of concern over the news indicates he's as skeptical as I am. Even so, I wonder why Third-Eye thinks there is a shadow attached to him. What does it want? And why is the signal getting stronger? While it's easy to dismiss Third-Eye's assessment, there's also a lot I don't know about my guide. I've only interacted with Wolf through emails. So far, he hasn't revealed anything about his past, his real name, what he does for a living, or the details of his estranged wife… Nothing. I'm still curious why he decided to come with us.

It's funny. Despite knowing nothing about him, Wolf is familiar to me. His face… Those blue eyes… It's like I have met him before. Was it in a dream? Hopefully I'll figure Wolf out by the end of this project. Perhaps there is more to this young man than I originally thought.

* * *

**VIDEO LOG 4 | Corel City | 09-23-00 | 09:42pm**

_Boom. Boom. Boom._ That's what I hear from high above. A large crowd of people gathers at the main square of Corel City with an explosion of cheers. Violins, drums, chimes, and trumpets echo throughout the streets. Multiple fire crackers continue to shoot up and pop loudly. Their elaborate designs expand outward in the sky until they disappear into a cloud of smoke. Everywhere I turn, there are colorful and whimsically designed snowflake decorations. They cover wooden bridges, streetlights, and marble-made water foundations. One group of children dances nearby to the lively music. They blow on their wooden flutes and sprinkle glitter in the air. A pink ribbon is tied around their arms.

The Winter Festival has officially begun in Corel City. It marks a new change in the seasons. It's a time when all things must die to pave the way for something new.

As I watch the ongoing festival from an outdoor patio, I'm surprised by how much Corel City has grown since the last time I visited it. There are many tall bricked structures, all painted with rich vivid hues. The streets buzz with cars and people. Withered flowers and trees appear everywhere – they rest in dormancy until the next season arrives. The integration of nature nicely balances with the steel and stone of man-made buildings. Despite being in the pit of a desert landscape, Corel City is a remarkable place given a charming touch. That may have a lot to do with its beloved founder.

Marlene Wallace. She passed away at the age of ninety-eight over a hundred years ago. Even so, her spirit lives on in the hearts of Corel residents today. In a past _Wonders of the World_ episode I talked about Marlene's father. Barret Wallace was the pioneer responsible for locating an alternate energy source after the collapse of mako. As a result, his daughter inherited a giant sum of Gil and became the richest person on the planet. Marlene used her inheritance to aid in WRO's restoration projects though. In honor of her father, who originally came from Corel, she settled here and made it into the second prosperous city it is today.

Stories of Marlene's kindness have circulated everywhere. The farms she sponsored battled global-wide starvation. She also funded numerous orphanages to house the world's abandoned children post-Meteorfall. Those orphanages became essential during the hard economic times and violent protests that followed afterward. Third-Eye came from one of those homes after he lost his parents to the riots.

Each day Marlene urged people to celebrate and remember how the Planet was saved by hope and dreams. I believe this message kept most of the world from tearing itself apart after the apocalypse.

There's a statue of Marlene Wallace by our outdoor patio table. For whatever reason, it portrays her as a six-year-old child. She holds her hands together, as if in prayer, and looks up at the sky. There are fresh flowers all around her ivory statue. The people of Corel City miss her. They don pink ribbons during festivals and important events, including today. The pink ribbon was something she wore her entire life. It is her legacy. I can't help but smile. With my PHS, I take a photo of the statue. Then I return to my dinner, only to hear Gizmo gripe about the food.

"Vultures. Whose idea was it to order pepperoni and ham?" Gizmo points at the new pizza dish that arrives at our table. "I thought we agreed to avoid meat. Mother Gaia did not bring four-legged creatures into this world to serve as a dish complimentary. Consider me offended and annoyed."

"Not this shit again…" Frank mutters and grabs five slices. He stacks them on his plate.

That action sets Gizmo on turbo mode. She begins her lecture on the torture of animals. I keep out of it and take in the settings instead. _Johnny's Pizzeria_ is only five blocks away from our motel. It's got a great selection of pizza dishes and liquors. Since it's packed inside the restaurant we opted to dine at the outdoor patio. I don't mind. Despite the cold weather, several metal torches keep the air warm. It's also peaceful out here. I can enjoy the lovely view of the Winter Festival from where I sit.

Close by, I hear an old homeless guy play in his acoustic guitar for Gil. He sings about a man driven by despair. Trapped in the land of dreams, he sleeps and waits for the one to awaken him.

As usual, my group engages in banter. Gizmo preaches on. Sleepy tries not to yawn and fall asleep. Third-Eye wants dessert already. Frank eats up his meat supreme pizza with no guilt toward Mother Gaia. And I document everyone with my camera like I always do. Beside me, Wolf keeps silent.

My guide currently smokes a cigarette with his eyes set low. A glance at his plate and I see the slice of pizza I offered him half an hour ago still there; fully intact and cold. His glass of beer also stays full. Our guide hasn't eaten or drank anything since we arrived at the pizzeria. He must still be queasy from the trip. Throughout the group's conversation, though, I notice Wolf's attention strays to Marlene Wallace's statue nearby. He observes it with an unreadable expression on his face. I want to ask him if he's all right. My mouth opens to speak, but Frank starts up a conversation before I get the chance.

"I found an interesting rumor related to Nibelheim," he says and chugs down his beer.

There are so many stories related to Nibelheim, from poltergeists to ten-foot-tall slender creatures, I almost don't want to hear another. Still, my curious nature gets the best of me and I find myself asking, "What kind of rumor is it?"

Frank continues drinking his beer. He doesn't look my way. I initially think he didn't hear me. But then I remember: this is Frank. Frank only talks to his favorite people.

"What did you hear?" Sleepy asks.

"It involves a creature from outer space," Franks immediately responds.

Gizmo stops talking about animal cruelty and scoffs out loud. "What the hell? Creatures from outer space? That's totally lame, man. We're entering cheesy b-movie territory now. It's cheesy with extra provolone cheese. Consider me appalled and fascinated. Please continue."

Frank sets his beer down. "I was on chat with a guy today. He apparently works at WRO's Archives and believes there's a mansion in the village, a very old one. It belonged to Shinra."

Sleepy rubs at his tired eyes. "Shinra? You mean the old company giant that used to rule the world two hundred years ago? The one allegedly responsible for Meteorfall?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"Interesting…" remarks Third-Eye and sips up half of his sweet tea. "What news did you hear?"

"According to my guy, he says Shinra's scientists conducted crazy experiments back in the day. It involved an alien from outer space." Frank shrugs his shoulders. "It sounds like crap, but the mention of an old mansion could be interesting. If it exists we need to document it."

"That rumor still doesn't explain the fire though…" I mutter.

"If you actually paid attention, Mercury, I said a _rumor related to Nibelheim_. I never said a rumor related to the fire. _Listen_ next time." Frank doesn't hold back his glare.

I bite hard into my slice of pizza.

"Maybe the fire was started by the creature from outer space," Gizmo suggests, interrupting the friction between Frank and me. "Like, maybe the alien was locked up in a secret laboratory of the mansion's basement. It broke out and this freak burns the village down with its laser-beam eyes. It takes human hosts and tries to destroy Mother Gaia. The infected people summoned Meteor and poison the air. We're all infected but don't know it until we die and come back as flesh-eating zombies." Gizmo nods, appearing satisfied with this possibility. "That could've happened. Consider me intrigued and terrified."

Our waiter stands nearby. With a pitcher of tea in his hand, he doesn't move and simply stares at our tech-head with wide eyes. It's hard to tell if Gizmo is high or not since she talks this way all the time.

"Damn hippie kids... getting doped up and listening to their Mother Gaia music," Sleepy shakes his head. He crosses his arms and offers another explanation. "It was a gas leak, simple as that. Someone forgot to turn off the stove."

"It could be tormented spirits," adds Third-Eye and raises his glass to the waiter for more sweet tea. "The Shrouded Village could house a gateway into the Lifestream's darker waters; a place where humanity's twisted subconscious resides."

"Oh, man, not _that_ spiritual mumbo-jumbo again…" gripes Frank. "It was arson. Some shit-faced brat intentionally lit the place up."

"Maybe it was Shinra," I offer my own two cents. "Maybe they wanted to cover up a major secret, especially if they actually occupied the village."

The crew offers various theories. They range from the reasonable to the absurd. Roughly ten minutes of speculation pass until a voice who hasn't uttered a word since we arrived at Corel City finally speaks up.

" _Maybe it was a man who lost his way…_ "

I direct my attention to our guide. So does everyone else at the table. For a moment, I don't think Wolf will say anything else. He sits there in his usual distant quietness, tapping the ashes off his cigarette's tip. The smoke smells funny. It smells like mako. The citrus scent of it nearly makes me sneeze. For what feels like an eternity, Wolf keeps quiet until he opens his mouth again. His voice isn't above a murmur.

"There once lived a powerful swordsman whose life and death defied the laws of nature," Wolf starts, "Possessing strange green eyes and hair the color of moonlight, he lived before the time of Meteorfall. The world once hailed him as a hero. For a time, he might have been."

Nearby, the old homeless man plays a different tune on his acoustic guitar. He now sings about a beautiful angel who held the world at his feet. Satin sheets covered his bed. The wine on his lips always tasted sweet. The angel's voice emerged as a low deep melody that made many go silent. This revered creature fought many battles. For glory. For absolution. And for a love he could never find. Light shined on him until the day he fell from grace.

I shift in my seat. Leaning forward to hear Wolf better, my camera records him.

"He was a man of incredible strength," Wolf resumes, "He could slice down enemies twice his size with a sword called Masamune. The world belonged to him."

Gizmo keeps her eyes fixed on Wolf as she loudly slurps up her drink through a straw. "A powerful swordsman loved by the world? Consider me fascinated. Do say more."

"A type of sadness existed in him," Wolf whispers back, his eyes unable to meet anyone. "It had always been there. No amount of worship, worldly pleasures, fortunes, and victories could fill his void. Since the day he was born, he hungered for a love that would make him complete. _Mother_ deprived him of that though. He never knew her. As a result, this boy grew into an incomplete man with a half-empty heart."

Frank snorts out loud. "Sounds like a real momma's boy then. What a pussy."

"In a child's mind, Mother is the name for _God_." Wolf finally looks up at us. His eyes don't stray as he adds, "Mother is love. Mother is the world. Whether we believe in that or not, many people hunger for an eternal love, especially those lost in the darkness. He was no different."

"So what happened to him?" I zoom into Wolf's face with my camera. This story sounds familiar to me – I don't know why. "What happened to this man with a _half-empty heart_?"

"He finally found the love he sought. It defined him for the rest of his life." The tip of Wolf's cigarette burns brighter. He sighs. "Wanting to prove his devotion to his beloved, the swordsman set out a new agenda. His first act led him to visit each home in the village. He knocked on every door three times. As the residents answered, he withdrew Masamune and chopped off their heads."

Next to Wolf, Sleepy's eyes go wild. " _What the fuck?_ "

"This tactic kept them from screaming and alerting the others in the village," the guide explains. Wolf grabs a knife inside his napkin. With it, he pretends to slice off Sleepy's head. " _Schlikt_. _Schlikt_ … That was the sound his sword made. It was followed by the _thud_ -like sound of a head falling off."

At this point, the entire table goes silent. Frank stops eating his pizza.

Wolf raises the knife at eye level and stares at its shining tip. The light in his eyes intensifies. "One by one he plucked the sheep from their flock until they realized what was happening."

"D-didn't the villagers do anything?" I ask. "Fight him back? Run away?"

"There was nothing they _could_ do." Wolf halfway snorts back at me. "Those who fought him, died. One foolish boy attempted to set him in fire. That failed. It backfired instead and set the village ablaze. As for those who ran, they were quickly found. This swordsman stalked the whole village, determined to cleanse the land. He slid his long sword deep inside locked closets, cupboards, and under the beds. When he pulled out the blade fresh blood would be on it. No one could hide from him."

The mental image of this blood bath leaves me stunned. I'm beyond words. Nevertheless, a question burns at the tip of my tongue. "But… why? Why did he do that?"

Wolf sets the knife down and takes a long drag from his cigarette again. His eyes meet mine. "I explained it to you already, Mercury: for love."

I go quiet.

"He sought what he wanted all his life and found it. In his mind, these dead people would merge with him in the Lifestream. He would receive all their love and at the same time appease _Mother_ …" Wolf shrugs his shoulders. "Or so the story goes. You guys are free to believe whatever you want to believe."

Wolf doesn't add anything else. He goes back to his own little world and finishes the rest of his cigarette. Somehow, the air feels chillier. While the music of the nearby festival plays on in the background, the mood at our table turns solemn. Frank drinks up his beer and briefly glances at Wolf. He shakes his head. Sleepy is fully wide awake while Gizmo actually stays silent for once. As for Third-Eye, he doesn't take his eyes off Wolf. The old man observes him with the same serious expression he donned in the van hours ago. I wonder if it has to do with the blue-eyed shadow or the story Wolf just shared to us.

I'm not sure what to believe myself. A madman prompted the fire in the village? This is a theory I've never heard before. It's also more terrifying than stories of a faulty mako reactor or vengeful spirits. If such a deranged swordsman actually existed it will be hard to collect evidence of him. This took place before the time of Meteorfall. Still, this is why my crew is headed to Nibelheim Village. We'll uncover the truth one way or another. And we'll become the biggest online channel around in the process.

The rest of the evening goes uneventful. We finish our meals.

The old man with the acoustic guitar, meanwhile, continues plucking away his strings. His throaty aged voice sounds deeper as he sings about a new fantasy ready to unfold. A group of lambs journey to a desolate place where the snow always falls. A beautiful angel calls to the one who will make him complete. He will make Eternity his. Gaia's dark harbinger will rise again and the messenger of gods will receive the final message before the world comes apart.

This is a song about love, the old man sings.


End file.
